Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Rest
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I leaned back against the rear seat of the taxi.
Hmm... Well, at least today’s my day off.
Yeah. Day off.
I had the right to escape this hellhole called the hospital until the sun rose tomorrow.
For now, I shoved the bad news into the trash bin in my head and decided to savor this short, precious moment of happiness.
What should I do?
Go home, take a hot shower, throw a frozen pizza in the oven, and wash it down with some beer?
Or just scroll through shorts mindlessly until I pass out?
As I ran through those happy thoughts, one idea popped up.
Wonder if anything’s new on the gallery.
Bored?
Nah. Habit.
Maybe even an addiction.
I might not be able to end my day anymore without these pointless chats with these crazy ghosts.
The blue interface floated up in the darkness.
The popular posts were plastered with stories about me, just as expected. One title stood out especially.
[Analysis] Scenarios Where Hellslave Doesn’t Get Fucked...txt
Oh, now this piqued my interest.
In a situation where everyone was dead certain I was doomed, someone dared to discuss scenarios where I don’t get fucked?
What kind of lunatic wrote this?
I clicked on it.
[Burned-Out Doctors Gallery]
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[Analysis] Scenarios Where Hellslave Doesn’t Get Fucked...txt
Writer: Anonymous (39.7)
There are none lololololololol
lolololololololololololololololololololololo
From the moment that psycho scalpel demon possessed you twice, you were already out lolololololololo
Your doctor career?
Yeah~ Gone~ lololololololololololo
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Pfft.
I let out an involuntary snort of laughter.
Go ahead, mock me all you want.
I didn’t get disciplined anyway.
Case dismissed, you idiots.
What do you know?
I flipped them off and scrolled down.
There were other posts too.
REBOA aside, was there really no other way to save the patient? [19]
[Analysis] Hellslave REBOA Case, Appropriateness Breakdown ㅇㅇ [8]
Complete List of Complications After Zone 1 REBOA (Hellslave Required Reading) [3]
Oh... yeah, it’s all about me.
I clicked on the one asking if there were no other options.
[Comments]
God's Scalpel: Nope. That was the only path as far as I saw.
ㄴ Heart Ghost: Hmm, shouldn’t they have put them on ECMO first?
ㄴ God's Scalpel: By the time you set up ECMO, they’d already arrest, you dumb cardiologist.
Yeah, and the appropriateness analysis below that.
[Burned-Out Doctors Gallery]
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[Analysis] Hellslave REBOA Case, Appropriateness Breakdown ㅇㅇ [8]
Writer: OR Ghost 3
1. Initial Judgment & MTP Activation: Good. (Spot on)
2. Trauma Surgery Consult Timing: Reasonable. (Makes sense)
3. REBOA Procedure Decision: Controversial but inevitable.
4. Procedure Performer Selection: Fucking insane. (*Braindead?)
5. Outcome: Miracle.
[Comments]
Anonymous (118.235): Exploded at 4.
Yeah, my crazy stunt.
No, God's Scalpel’s crazy stunt going viral on the gallery.
Hold up.
Something felt off.
The air in the car suddenly felt heavy.
I glanced at the rearview mirror.
The driver kept sneaking peeks at me through it.
I touched my face.
Was I not controlling my expressions?
Snickering alone at gallery posts.
Frowning, muttering curses.
To anyone watching, I must’ve looked like a total nutjob.
The nightmare from last year on the bus flashed back.
[Guy next to me is weird;; just discharged from psych?]
...Yeah, I probably looked insane today too.
I cleared my throat and straightened up.
Pretended to stare at the night view out the window, trying to look as normal as possible.
Gotta be careful.
Hanging out with ghosts too long might’ve dulled my sense of reality without me noticing.
Sigh—
Buried in the leather seat of the taxi’s back, I exhaled long while watching the night scenery whip by outside.
I’d been avoiding buses lately to dodge misunderstandings.
After that heroic incident last year saving the stroke grandma on the bus, I started dreading public transport.
The save itself was great, but I realized people saw me muttering to thin air and laughing alone as full-on schizophrenic.
The cabbie’s side-eyes today.
Plus, I felt like I had some kind of jinx material on me.
Jinx.
Hospital slang for medical staff who attract emergencies or unlucky cases wherever they go.
I didn’t believe in superstitions, but looking back on my two years as a doctor...
Well.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that all the insane once-in-a-lifetime events piled up on me alone.
Laparotomy, REBOA, TTP, child abuse report.
Just coincidence?
Especially after recently realizing ghosts actually exist—a fact more ridiculous than anything in any medical textbook.
Maybe some curse really was riding my shoulders?
Or maybe those psycho ghosts in my head were the ones bringing the disasters.
Lost in pointless philosophy, the taxi pulled up to my familiar officetel building.
The driver waited until I was fully out, then sighed in relief like he’d unloaded hazardous cargo before driving off.
I stood alone on the empty street, looking up at my rundown building.
This officetel air.
So damn good.
Peaceful compared to the hospital.
My space, smelling of yesterday’s burger delivery instead of disinfectant.
If it smells weird, it’s your imagination.
Heading home, I decided to share the miraculous victory from the training committee with my one true audience.
[Burned-Out Doctors Gallery]
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Guys I didn’t get disciplined ㅇㅇ Case dismissed confirm
Writer: Hellslave 1
Just got back from the training committee. Result: dismissed. No discipline.
REBOA isn’t even prohibited for EM per regs (under supervision ofc)
No patient safety violations
And crucially, the surgery prof finished it off, so hard to say I “led” the procedure?
Basically just limited involvement in the trauma bay, so it squeaked by.
[Comments]
Anonymous (210.94): ? Whatever gg.
Latte is: Be grateful for your dumb luck.
OR Ghost 3: Fact) Without that “under supervision” clause in regs, Hellslave would be fucked right now.
ㄴ Hippocrates Heir: Who doesn’t know that?
ㄴ OR Ghost 3: Shut up, internist.
...Yeah, still a shitshow.
I punched in the door code.
Beep-beep-beep—
The door clicked open with a cheerful chime.
I kicked off my shoes haphazardly, tossed my bag, and shuffled inside.
One goal.
Bed.
Lie down first.
Then shorts or whatever.
I headed to the bedroom.
Flopped straight onto the soft mattress.
Ah...
Finally feeling alive.
‘The outcome was good, wasn’t it?’
I consoled myself and opened the blue window again.
Curious about reactions to my “no discipline confirm” post.
That’s when an unexpected comment caught my eye.
God's Scalpel: Hey.
What now with this guy.
God's Scalpel: You remember how I did the REBOA, right? You were watching with eyes wide open?
Remember? Honestly, barely.
I was probably munching popcorn from the back row of my body’s theater.
ㄴ Hellslave 1: Huh? No? Don’t remember? I was mostly spacing out.
ㄴ God's Scalpel: Wh-wh-what????? Hellslave what the fuck are you saying
...Uh, something’s ominous.
God's Scalpel: You saw it right in front of you and don’t remember???? That’s your excuse?????? This body is very angry right now.
ㄴ Hellslave 1: Dude I told you I wasn’t all there??
ㄴ God's Scalpel: Fine. Time to reformat that brain. Crash course on God’s Scalpel-style REBOA begins now!
Nooo! Stop! Fuck!!
Crazy surgeon lecture!
...
And so, I spent my off-day evening flat on my back like a corpse, getting one-on-one express tutoring from the ghost instructor.
God's Scalpel pulled up some mystery 3D body model and broke it down: exact femoral artery puncture site, guidewire angle tweaks, every fucked complication from sheath insertion, Zone 1 ballooning risks and why we had to do it anyway.
Explained it all in excruciating detail, down to the bone.
Pop quizzes in between, forcing REBOA into my skull.
How much time passed?
After nearly two hours, the lecture cut off.
God's Scalpel: Alright! That’s it!
Hellslave 1: ? Done?
God's Scalpel: You couldn’t do it anyway even if I taught you ㅇㅇ. Delicate stuff like catheter handling or balloon inflation, I’ll possess you again next time and show you direct. Be grateful ㅇㅇ.
God's Scalpel ended the session all magnanimous-like.
It wrapped quicker than expected because he skipped chunks with “You’ll never do this with those hands, I’ll demo live next time,” and I was so wiped I just zombie-nodded.
Once it ended, the fatigue lifted a bit, like magic.
No, was it fatigue gone or just my mind broken?
Whatever.
Not refreshed, but better than before, I finally drifted off.
‘Ah, tomorrow... night shift.’
Fuck.
Why do days off fly by?